hex and viskani had met with one another among the stone cairns. muskrat had not come to the meeting, for her hunt had taken her into patchwork shadow and mud-tunnels.

all in pursuit of the little thing she led by a twist of vine. the warrior's quarry had been a red fox cub of eight moons. still bright with scarlet fur not yet shading toward the thick silver of a winter coat, they plodded disconsolately behind muskrat. bruised into subservience and laden with curled bundles of mountain heather, muskrat intended to make a gift of the fox to viskani.

to kill. to eat. to wear. she did not care, and had indicated as much. but foxes did not speak wolf, and she did not need to learn their tongue to have captured one.

dropping the vine, muskrat noted that the thing did not try to run, only crouched in dismal silence upon the ground. she called out, a coyote-yipping note, proclaiming herself as ridge warrior with a message.

feline, confident, a familiar form came forth from the vale's shimmering light. where the ridge was plunged into forgiving shadow that did not dissipate with dawn, muskrat felt rather exposed here.

"tousaint," she purled, hiding none of her amusement over her little gift. "i find this one after they steal meat from ridge. follow far, far. kill their chieftain and the mothers." a raid, one far deadlier than had it been wolves. "slave for viskani."

placing her paw upon the tether, muskrat curled her claws into the dirt, straining the fox's neck until they rose to pad forward. if the valewolves were amenable to this, it did not mean they would welcome the captives among their own kind whom muskrat also planned to capture. this now was the natural order of their world.

"i bring?" but it was a question for tousaint, not a demand to traipse through their land. she would have liked to see it all the same. the choice remained with the coiffed man and his curiosity.

cunning sunflower watched tousaint's throat bob with what she hoped was a healthy fear. yes. yes this was the response to which she had become accustomed among the swamp panthers, and now the ridge would elicit the same from those around.

as if considering his question, muskrat remained still. then her foreleg flashed, knocking the fox to its flank. a cry rent the air, one of surprise and pain. "keep in their place," she shrugged.

clawed foot flicked the tether's end toward tousaint. if he would not grant entry, her answer was gleaned. precious time ended now. "give her. tell her take fur and meat if fox make trouble."

between the wolves, the kit crouched, silent; shivering. her smirk was almost sweetened as muskrat nodded toward tousaint, taking a pair of steps backward with the intention to leave. yet her eyes were half lidded; her movements languid as she waited expectantly for tousaint to take up the lead-rope.

gracious. as if viskani might not one day find herself in such a rope were she not careful with how she regarded the ridge. muskrat turned a sharp grin over her shoulder, the sunyellow slitted eyes moving with promise over his face. "only taste, tousaint. this. only one taste."

before long, she was crossing the vale-border and winging her way into the land of stone cairns, a diminutive figure that moved with a hunter's grace.

suppose the montagne creatures accepted their bid? a powerful exchange, wealth and captives traded from coast to desert.

resolve tightened her step; it was time to put teeth into the world and feel for a raid. time for the name of shadow to be known.